Unveiling the Power of In-Person Sisterhood: An Eye-Opening Revelation
Updated: Apr 23
Well hello, world. It’s so lovely to be back after a while.
If I told you that for the past few months, I’ve been head down, doggedly aiming to meet another goal, pushing up my sleeves and giving it my all, you might think: yeah, join the club, Wilkes. That’s not totally unfamiliar territory these days in our achievement and productivity-driven world.
But it would also be the truth. Because there I was, proud to be slogging away in front of a computer screen for about ten hours a day laboring over a mammoth (but very important) writing project. Yep. Just me and the page. And a bunch of words I deleted, moved around and wrote over and over again. It was kind of like talking to myself for twelve weeks straight.
Highly creative and ambitious, sure. Also, highly isolating.
But don’t worry, I told myself. It’s not forever. Besides, don’t I kind of thrive on solitude?
For the better part of the last fifteen years, I’ve been comfortable flaunting what American culture praises: independence! Glory in the ability to do hard stuff all ourselves, dammit! I’ve lived by myself since my senior year of college. Have been single for a long time. And, more than once, have brushed my shoulders off for seemingly “getting by” with less social interaction than most, knowing introverted life, for the most part, was mine. Telling myself that I was fine with another weekend evening spent inside with a book. Fine with the number of hours spent walking neighborhood pups outnumbering those spent with humans. And fine with accepting that hanging out in big groups drained me.
But something has just turned these beliefs upside down like a kid dumping a box of Legos onto the floor, scattering them far and wide.
Knowing it was time to step away from the screen for a while, I spent some of my reprieve surrendering alongside someone I’ve come to build immense trust with, my life coach of nine years, Rebecca Niziol. I was one of twelve women she hosted on a retreat in Taos, New Mexico.
Nestled 7,000 feet up in the peaceful high desert where “The Land of Enchantment” adorns the bottom of license plates, we gathered to pause and renew, getting to know each other through anything but those networking kind of introductions where you state your name, profession and the number of years you’ve been hustling. Here, we dropped the roles, the titles and the phones. At first, we relied on observing each other’s energy to familiarize ourselves rather than latching onto spoken words. And within a matter of hours, bonds began to forge. We laughed and smiled and everything felt flowy.
And then, just as we began to circle up our yoga mats, Rebecca dropped this ’lil tidbit: Did we know that humans are meant to receive about seven hugs a day? Oh, and by the way, each should ideally last for twenty seconds.
Are your eyes bugging like mine were? Seven? I was lucky if I got one every two weeks.
And that was the start of my revelation: I have been starving for deep, in-person communal connection. And for longer than these last few months of writing.
After three days on retreat, I was flying on a full oxytocin high. It came with being my full, true self met with nothing but love and acceptance for some very awkward dance moves I thankfully can’t embed in this blog post, plentiful dad jokes and yes, many, many hugs.
In the midst of some sort of honest to goodness southwest vortex, time shifted and the parts—the roles—we let lead in the real world melted away. Daughter, mother, sister, wife, friend, writer, business owner, caretaker—all of them took a back seat as the stuff underneath got to come up for air.
These little golden nuggets of raw truth patiently lying deep down, when courageously exposed, only led to wide-eyed “wait, me too!” moments in the sauna and while grabbing a cup of tea in our messy hair and pajama pants. A recipe that seemed to fast-track true connection alongside ample time for play. Where, I wondered, was that feeling in my everyday life?
This was evidence —and a reminder— of how I could feel. Which got me wondering: how many other women must be starving for this kind of in-person soul sisterhood, too? Even the ones in partnerships and with families? And whether they’re conscious of it or not? Post pandemic, didn’t we vow to never take for granted community in the flesh? So why, then, does it feel like we have?
(By the way, I looked up that hug fact. It stems from the findings of Virginia Satir, a renowned family therapist, who found that humans need four hugs a day for survival; eight hugs a day for maintenance; and twelve hugs a day for growth. Okay, let’s all push our eyes back into their sockets, now.)
To top it off, on our last full day, Rebecca announced we’d be graced by a visit from a highly respected native drum maker of the community, Lynn Wozniak, affectionately known as “Mamma Lynn.” I slightly expected to be thrust into some kind of soulful high school marching band. But hey, down for it!
But instead, Mamma Lynn circled us up and, as if speaking over a campfire, shared intoxicating stories and wisdom of her native culture and the healing power of drumming. Before she even pulled out the instrument from her bag, she took us back in time to a familiar tha-thump, tha-thump rhythm, modeling the motion with a loose fist of one hand gently thudding against the open palm of the other. It’s the last pulsating sound, she said, that each of us hear inside that cozy womb before being thrust into the stark lights of the world.
But that token sound? It’s not our own heartbeat. Rather, that of our mother’s echoing through amniotic fluid which we innately seek throughout our lives from the moment we’re born.
We've heard it so many times, yet keep dismissing it: Each of us, by nature, crave connection with others—no matter how much of an introvert or proud independent woman we may be.
It’s such a soft thump. Easily drowned out by heavy machinery and taxes and crappy customer service and another annoying forgotten password retrieval process. And, by culture.
In no better setting could I ask for a reminder that we are a tribal species for good reason, never meant to survive entirely ourselves or even alongside only one other person. But we’ve stripped so much community from our modern, convenient lives. We isolate behind manicured lawns rather than gather on open fields. Place infinite individual Amazon prime grocery delivery orders and smile with “can do!” faces rather than pitching in to create meals together.
By the end of those five days in Taos, it was clear: true soul connection doesn’t thrive on the sum of our parts, but the sum of our hearts. With this special group of women, I felt alive. Myself. Energized. True. Shining. Stronger and more joyful alongside them. And anything but drained.
When we release the proving and the roles and circle up intentionally to make our whole selves available, when we drop down and in rather than bulldoze ahead to prove our parts are worthy, soulmate sisterhood connections can emerge in a matter of days. Hours, even. That is, if the conditions are ripe with trust, space, safety, and presence. (And, ideally, someone leading who knows what they're doing ;)
So many times, I’ve shrugged and looked around and thought: Well, I guess this is just how it’s gonna be. But after years, I’m reminded that fulfillment, rather than shame, comes with an openness to lean on each other. I wish this for all women and I want to bring that deep sisterhood back. When we find our people, it’s worth the effort to keep them close.
So in this season of re-emergence, I’m returning to my rhythm and (pun totally intended) ready to keep dancing to the beat of my beautiful weirdo drum in good company. And since (as Rebecca oh so gently broke to me) I can’t live real life on retreat, in next month’s post, I’ll be sharing what big, bold move I’m making to incorporate that sacred getaway into my life instead.
And – and! I’d love to hear from you, too. Have you been missing sisterhood? Do you have ideas to bring it back? Or maybe you’re already whipping up some sort of communal magic. I want to hear about it! Comment below or send me a personal note.
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Photos: the talented Chelsea Kosec
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